


Engagement

by etymolodrarry



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drarry, Engagement, Established Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Established Relationship, Fluff, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marriage, Miscommunication, Not Epilogue Compliant, Oneshot, Post-Hogwarts, So much hurt/comfort, drarry oneshot, proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:41:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28900551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etymolodrarry/pseuds/etymolodrarry
Summary: Harry and Draco both have Very Important Questions for each other. Neither of them realize that their questions are actually the same.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 8
Kudos: 105





	1. Chapter 1

For Draco, marriage was always a simple fact of life. Growing up pureblood, he was taught from a young age that it was just another one of his duties. He was to grow up, marry a respectable pureblood woman, and produce an heir. And for a while, Draco was okay with this—that is, until he realized that he in no way, shape, or form, fancied women. 

He internalized this struggle, though, and by the time his parents informed him that they'd be marrying him to Pansy Parkinson (unless he could find a suitable alternative, of course) he wasn't nearly as bothered by it as he should have been. For one, Pansy was a lesbian, so at least he wouldn't have to hide _that_ part of himself for the rest of his life. 

But then the Second Wizarding War ended, and Draco quickly realized that it _didn't have to be this way._ Pureblood ideologies were quickly falling out of style as many families renounced the old ways in an attempt to regain their status. Draco saw the effects of this first hand when Pansy tearfully announced her engagement to her future wife. He experienced it _again_ when he mended ties with Harry Potter, and Harry had casually mentioned in passing that he was bisexual. 

It wasn’t long after that that they started dating, and after three years, marriage was no longer an idea that Draco pushed to the back of his mind—no, it was now at the very forefront. For a long while, he had a hard time determining what _he_ wanted, though. Pansy frequently informed him that _marriage isn't for everyone, Draco. You don't have to get married if you don't want to._

That was the problem, though. Draco didn't know if he truly _wanted_ to marry Harry, or if it was simply a side effect of his upbringing.

The accumulation of Harry’s little gestures of love was what finally made Draco figure it out. 

Harry’s love was subtle. It was the way he’d wake Draco from a nightmare with a soft kiss, or how he’d bring Draco lunch at work when he’d forgotten it. 

Once he finally decided that _yes,_ he really _did_ want to marry Harry, Draco panicked. He had no idea how Harry felt about marriage—the only time it had ever been mentioned was when Ron and Hermione had gotten married. Harry had been genuinely happy for them, and he never expressed any amount of dislike for marriage, even when Hermione called him in the middle of the night, in tears over the stress of her wedding plans. However, Harry had also never given any hints about how _he_ felt about marriage. 

And so, Draco was freaking out. 

He bought a ring anyways, of course. It was a simple gold wedding band that sparkled when the sun hit it. It was subtle, just like Harry liked it. He never liked to wear flashy, expensive clothing or accessories like Draco. He was perfectly happy with his worn cloak and frayed trousers, even when he had to frequently patch them.

Draco tried not to let his anxiety show—he continued to shower Harry with his affection as usual, whether it was buying every ridiculous trinket that made Draco think of him, or Harry's favorite treats, or offering Harry one of his signature massages after a long day. If Harry noticed any change in his demeanor, he didn't say anything.

* * *

There was a reason that Harry never brought up marriage—it was just something he never thought about. Growing up, he didn't exactly have caregivers who taught him about love, dating, or marriage, so everything he knew he'd gleaned from observing the adults in his life. He knew he'd probably get married _someday,_ but it was always something that was in the far distant future. 

In fact, he hadn't even considered what it would be like to marry Draco Malfoy, even three years into their relationship. Perhaps he was just oblivious to any hints that Draco dropped, or maybe it was because, for so long, he didn't understand _why_ people got married in the first place. It wasn't until he was twelve years old and he observed the loving relationship between Molly and Arthur Weasley that he started to understand. 

It wasn't that he didn't _love_ his boyfriend. He loved Draco more than anyone or any _thing_ he'd ever loved. Maybe it was because he felt so content—after three years, Harry's life really couldn't be any more perfect than it already was. 

Their shared flat was only a few minutes walk from their favorite café where they'd go on lazy mornings for a small breakfast. On the mornings when they _couldn't_ be lazy, Harry was often up before dawn, making breakfast just the way Draco liked it. It was one of Harry's favorite things—he'd always been an early riser, and the satisfaction of seeing Draco dig into his breakfast vanished any of Harry's residual sleepiness.

Maybe it was the look on Draco's face when Harry visited him at work, or the small notes Draco delivered during his lunch break (usually along with some treacle tart) or the way Draco reacted when Harry kissed him deeply, tangling his fingers through his hair and pulling him close, but Harry had never felt so utterly _loved_ in his entire life. 

That being said, Harry still had his fair share of bad days. There were days when everything made him angry, when the smallest inconvenience sent waves of frustration through him that he struggled to suppress. There were days when he couldn't find the energy to get himself out of bed, when he was plagued with nightmares during the night and flashbacks during the day. There were days when he simply couldn't understand _why_ Draco was still with him, especially when Draco offered him so much _love,_ and Harry offered up hardly anything in return.

* * *

It was on one of these bad days that Harry dragged himself home from work, fully intending to get changed and snap himself out of the bad mood before Draco could see him like this. They'd had this date night planned for months, and Harry wasn't about to ruin it because he wasn't able to suck it up and push through the day. 

"Is that you, Harry?" Draco called from the depths of their shared closet, his voice severely muffled by the clothing. "Hey, which of these should I wear tonight?" His voice became clearer as he exited the closet, holding two sets of dress robes. "Babe?" He frowned as he caught sight of Harry, who was trying _very_ hard to not appear exhausted.

"Er, I like them both," Harry said truthfully, rubbing his eyes. "I still need to figure out what to wear."

Draco blocked the entrance to their closet as Harry approached it. "Maybe we should reschedule," he eyed Harry, noting his disheveled appearance. "You should just change into your pajamas."

"But—" Harry frowned, "you've been looking forward to this."

Draco shook his head. "Yeah, but you look exhausted." He pulled Harry close and pressed a kiss to his temple. "Go shower and get dressed for bed."

"No, I'm fine," Harry insisted, "I'm not that tired. We should still go."

Draco looked Harry up and down. “Harry, you’re making _me_ tired, just looking at you. Let me take care of you, alright? Go get dressed for bed." 

Harry nodded glumly, but he was far too tired to shower, so he opted for a strong _scourgify_ once Draco had left the room. He felt a weight pull on his mind as he slowly changed into his pajamas, unable to shake the guilt that was worsening by the minute. He'd _totally_ ruined their date night—how was he going to make it up to Draco? Not only that, but Harry was being so stubborn and nasty to him, when all he was doing was trying to help. 

By the time he was ready for bed, Harry _really_ felt like he was going to kneel over any minute and pass out. All he wanted to do was curl up and fall asleep by himself, letting himself be as sad as he wanted. 

But then Draco called Harry downstairs, and Harry couldn't find it in his heart to ignore him. He trudged down the stairs and into the living room to find Draco with an _excessive_ amount of Chinese take-away and a handful of muggle films. 

Harry felt like he _really_ couldn't focus on a movie at the moment—the idea made him feel like his mind was being squeezed from all sides. It must have shown on his face, because Draco jumped up and led him to the couch, assuring him that he didn't even have to pay attention to whatever film they chose—he just wanted Harry to sit with him while they ate dinner. 

"You're not mad?" Harry asked softly as the first film started playing.

Draco frowned. "Why would I be mad?"

"I ruined our date night," he answered, fidgeting with the take-away container. "I'm sorry."

"Who says it's ruined?" Draco asked. "We're eating dinner and spending time together. That sounds like the perfect date to me."

Harry furrowed his brow. "But you've been looking forward to it for ages. You made the reservations _months_ ago."

Draco put down his food and shifted to face him. "Harry, I was looking forward to it because I was looking forward to spending time with _you._ I could care less about the fancy dinner. I'm just as happy _here_ , watching you shovel Chinese food into your mouth without an ounce of eloquence."

It was a good attempt at humor, but Harry didn't laugh. "You really like spending time with me that much?"

Draco grabbed his hands. "Of _course_ I do—where is all of this coming from, babe?"

Harry shrugged half heartedly. "I dunno, I guess I've just had a bad couple days." 

Normally, Harry was able to recognize when he was being irrational—when he _knew_ , deep down, that Draco really did love him. Except, recently, Draco had been acting differently. He was careful around Harry, almost like he was _uncomfortable,_ but just when Harry was starting to think it wasn't just all in his head, Draco would come home with a beautiful bouquet of flowers, kiss Harry on the cheek, and drag him into the bedroom. 

Maybe it was just the extra stress from work, but this time it was particularly bad—Harry's self-deprecating thoughts were stronger this time, and he was struggling to hide them. 

"Oh, come here, love." Draco put Harry's food on the table and leaned back against the couch, pulling Harry to his chest. 

Harry sighed into Draco's shirt, reveling in the rare sensation of being held. As comforting as it was, he still felt guilty—Draco was doing _so much_ to cheer him up, but none of it was working because Harry didn't have the guts to express what was really bothering him in the first place. 

"You know I love you, right?" Draco pressed a kiss into Harry's hair, cradling his head with his hand. 

"I know," Harry said in a small voice. "That's the thing."

Harry didn't see the panicked expression that flickered across Draco's face, but he did hear the hint of worry in his voice as he asked, "what do you mean?"

Harry took a shaky breath. "I haven't done anything to deserve it."

"What—what are you talking about?"

"You're always doing so much for me," he answered, "you get me flowers and help me through my panic attacks and always make sure I’m warm at night, and even now you're trying so hard to make me better—and what do I do for you in return? Nothing!"

 _"Harry,"_ Draco cradled Harry's face in his hand so that he'd look at him. "You don't have to _do_ anything to earn somebody's love. Just being _you_ is enough."

"It is?" Harry gave him a searching look, his eyes starting to water, and Draco kissed him softly before continuing. 

"Of _course_ it is," Draco said. "Besides, you do more things for me than you realize—and I'm sorry I haven't expressed how much they mean to me." He paused when Harry gave him a doubtful look. "Not only do you make me breakfast _every morning,_ but you always make sure I've eaten enough, too. You defend me every time someone at the Ministry makes a nasty comment about my past— _and_ you force them to acknowledge my accomplishments, even when it makes them uncomfortable.”

“That’s just because I care about you,” Harry said, and he flushed. “Right, I guess I see your point.”

Draco laughed softly, cupping Harry’s face in his hand. “You protect me from the world without leaving me ignorant—because you _know_ what that’s like, and you don’t want me to go through that. You _see_ me, Harry, _all_ of me, and yet _you're still here_. You're not afraid or disgusted or disappointed. It’s the fact that _you_ love _me_.” 

Harry’s eyes fluttered shut and he leaned into Draco’s hand, finally relaxing in Draco’s arms. “That’s true,” he murmured, “I _do_ love you.”

“And I love you too,” Draco kissed his forehead, letting Harry’s head fall back against him.

Harry mumbled something into Draco’s shirt, and smiled when he felt Draco’s laugh vibrate his chest. He marveled at the fact that Draco knew exactly the right thing to say to make Harry feel better. Maybe it was because Draco knew him more than Harry even knew himself. It was just like Draco had said—he _saw_ Harry, and wasn’t afraid of what he saw.

Harry wanted to spend the rest of his life with him. And as he drifted off to sleep, Harry realised with a start that Draco wanted to spend the rest of his life with him, too.


	2. Chapter 2

Despite the long hours that Harry worked the next few days, he had a spring in his step for the rest of the week. He’d woken up the next morning with Draco’s arms wrapped tightly around him—Draco must’ve carried him to their bed at some point—and an inkling of an idea started growing in his mind. 

It was a week later that Harry was finally ready to spring his idea into action. Filled with nervous excitement, he entered their apartment after work and hung up his cloak, patting the pocket to make sure nothing had fallen out.

“Draco?” Harry called, walking down the hallway and frowning when Draco wasn’t in his usual spot in the library.

“In here,” a voice called from the living room, and Harry could’ve sworn he sounded nervous.

“Hey!” He greeted with a smile, then paused when he took in Draco’s body language. He was sitting on the couch, but his body was stiff—head held high, shoulders tight, foot tapping anxiously. “Are you alright?”

Draco swallowed and nodded. “All good,” he said in a cheery voice that did not match his demeanor. “Come sit down.”

He sat down cautiously, feeling dread gather into the pit of his stomach. _This is it._

He’d thought everything was alright—in fact, the last few days had been _wonderful,_ but maybe he was wrong. Maybe their relationship had been falling apart right in front of him, and he didn’t even notice.

Harry cursed himself for working so many long hours—if he’d just been home more, if he’d _done_ more—this wouldn’t be happening right now. Draco wouldn’t be ending it. 

A small voice in the back of his head reminded Harry of what Draco had told him—that he didn’t have to _do_ anything to earn his love—but that was just something you said, right?

“Draco, you’re scaring me,” he said finally, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Draco insisted, “I’m just anxious, that’s all.”

“Why are you anxious?”

Draco frowned. “It’s nothing, really, why are you so worried?”

“Because you look nervous!” Harry gestured to him, “ _Really,_ what’s going on?”

“I’m _fine,_ I just had something I wanted to talk about.”

Harry felt like he couldn’t breathe. _This is really happening,_ he thought. His thoughts felt like they were going in slow motion as the realization settled in. _It’s over._ He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the words that would surely come. _He’s breaking up with me._

Draco cleared his throat. “Well, it’s a question, actually.”

 _What?_ Harry opened his eyes to look at him and regretted it immediately. The anxiety written across Draco’s face confirmed his worst fear—this must be one _horrible_ question.

* * *

Draco watched a series of emotions flicker across Harry’s face and desperately wanted to know what was going through his mind. _He knows what I’m going to ask, doesn’t he?_ He stared at Harry’s hands as they balled into fists. _He hates the idea, I just know it._

“Harry?” Draco asked gently, trying to make eye contact, but Harry looked away. “What’s wrong?”

Harry looked away and shook his head faintly. “I’m fine, just ask your question.”

Hands shaking, Draco reached into his pocket and pulled out the box, carefully opening it and setting it in his lap. “ _Harry,”_ he said again. 

Blinking rapidly, Harry looked up and stared at the ring in Draco’s hands. “Wh— _what?”_

“Will you marry me?” Draco’s voice was a near whisper, the lump in his throat preventing him from speaking properly.

It seemed to take Harry a moment to process what was in front of him. “You—you want me to marry you?”

“Well, yeah,” Draco lowered the box uncertainly. “I mean—” he stopped abruptly when Harry began to chuckle. “Fine, I get it, you don’t have to _laugh,”_ he said, snapping the box shut.

* * *

The turn of events was so sudden, so unexpected, that Harry _couldn’t help_ but laugh. Here he was, thinking that Draco was about to break up with him—but he couldn’t have been more wrong. 

The tears that had welled up in his eyes spilled down his face as he laughed, barely keeping himself from sobbing in relief. “Draco, _sit down,”_ Harry held up a hand when Draco went to get up and leave. “I’m not laughing at you, I swear, it’s just—” he shook with the effort as he forced himself to stop laughing _and_ crying, before drawing his wand to wordlessly summon his cloak.

“Show off,” Draco muttered under his breath, despite the hurt expression on his face.

“The reason I’m laughing is because,” Harry said, pausing to fish the box out of his jacket pocket, “I was going to ask the same thing,” he turned back to Draco, opening the box at the same time to reveal the shiny ring inside.

Draco clapped his hand over his mouth. _“What?”_

“Will _you_ marry _me?”_

“I thought—” he lowered his hand from his face, shaking slightly. “I thought you didn’t want to, that you’d say no.” 

“Oh, come here,” Harry gave him a watery smile and set the ring down to pull him into a hug, stroking Draco’s hair when he started to cry. Harry hoped at least _some_ of his tears were happy ones. _"I_ thought you were going to break up with me,” he confessed after a moment, hearing his sobs come back full-force. 

“What? Of _course_ not,” Draco's arms tightened around Harry. “I _love_ you! Merlin, how could you even think—” he suddenly paused and pulled away, looking at Harry with wide eyes. “Shit, mother is going to _kill_ you.”

“What? _Why?”_ Harry asked in alarm, quickly wiping away his tears. He’d seen Narcissa less than an hour earlier, and as nerve-wracking the encounter had been, she hadn’t _looked_ like she was ready to kill him.

“Pureblood etiquette, Potter,” Draco explained, exasperated. “You _always_ ask the parents for their blessing before you propose.”

Harry bit his lip to stifle his laughter. “You didn’t look at the ring, Malfoy.” 

He looked down to finally pick up the box, holding it up to the light to inspect the ring and it’s engravings. “Is this—is this my _mum’s_ engagement ring? Where did you _get_ this?”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “From your mum?” 

“I know _that,”_ Draco rolled his eyes, “but _when?”_

“Today, after work.”

“But you—” he frowned. “But you only _just_ got off work.”

“I left at seven,” Harry corrected.

“You bastard, you told me you had work until nine!” Draco swatted at Harry’s arm, making a face.

“I _did_ have work until nine, but I left early,” he shrugged.

“ _You,”_ Draco said incredulously. “ _You,_ Harry _‘_ _workaholic’_ Potter, left work _early?”_

“It was important!” he gestured, “and hey, I’m not a _workaholic_ , I just have a job that requires a lot of commitment!” 

“I know, I’m only joking,” he leaned forward to kiss Harry on the cheek. “Here, take the damn ring already, unless you’ve already changed your mind.”

Harry could barely see from the force of his smile as he extended his hand towards Draco.

He gently slid the ring onto Harry’s finger, looking up at him before letting go. “You _do_ want to, right?” Draco asked anxiously. “Get married, I mean.”

“Of _course,_ ” he answered, before pausing. “Wait, do _you_ want to?”

“I _proposed_ to you, you git!” 

“Yeah, and so did I!” Harry laughed, “but that’s not stopping _you_ from having doubts.”

Trying to hold back a smile, Draco bit his lip. “We’re engaged,” he said shyly.

Harry lurched forward to give him a kiss. “We’re engaged!” 

“Why are you _crying?”_ Draco used his fingers to wipe away the tears that had not stopped streaming down Harry’s face.

“Because I’m going to _marry you!”_

“Wow,” he answered sarcastically, barely managing to hold back his laughter. “I didn’t realize I was that horrible of an option.”

“Oh, shut up and take the ring,” Harry huffed, grabbing Draco’s hand to slide the ring—the Malfoy family heirloom that Narcissa had given him—on his finger.

“That’s the wrong hand,” he snickered after a moment.

 _“Shit,”_ Harry pulled the ring off Draco’s right hand, ignoring the tears that fell onto his fingers, and put it on his left instead. _“There,_ " he said proudly. “It’s official.” 

“Oh _Merlin_ I was so _nervous,”_ Draco confessed, exhaling in relief.

“What? _Why?”_

“Well, because you—” he rubbed the back of his neck in a very Harry-like fashion. “Because you’ve never mentioned marriage before, not even in passing; I had no idea if you, I don’t know, thought it was stupid, or something.” He waited a moment before continuing. “I’ve been stressing about this for months,” he confessed.

 _“Months?”_ Harry raised his eyebrows. “Is that why you’ve been acting so strangely?”

“You—you noticed that?”

“Oh, what can I say?” he said airily, “you have a very observant _fiancé.”_

 _“'Fiancé,'_ " Draco repeated with a grin. “And for the record, you’re observant when it comes to body language, and _that’s it._ Otherwise, you’re oblivious as _fuck.”_

“Oh, shut up and kiss me, you prat.” 

**Author's Note:**

> part 2 will be up in a few days!!


End file.
